Twins' business
by AmWatchingYou
Summary: A little secret two Italian brothers share, not wanting anyone to know about it.


Lovino opened his eyes, revealing to the wakening world his hazel-green irises. He wasn't asleep actually, so much as dozing. He woke up from time to time during the night, checking his clock on his nightstand which invariably looked back at him with its neon green numbers telling how ungodly early or late it was.

Yes, he was sleepless that night. As was his sibling Feliciano from what he knows after years of living together.

In fact, said cheerful twin got up earlier than usual and was making breakfast for them both. Lovino could tell from the delicious smell, teasing and tickling his nose.

He pulled his tired body up to lead it to the bathroom. Maybe a good warm shower would make him feel less like a bag of garbage. It did little. As he finished putting on his clothes, Lovino made his way to the kitchen, finding there the sight of his brother making them both delicious espresso, placing the cups on a small round table in the center of their kitchen along with a plate of toast and jam.

Feliciano wasn't humming, he wasn't swinging his hips in occasional dance as he usually did while cooking or doing something in the kitchen. He was quiet and motionless, which made Lovino more nervous and restless. When his brother noticed him, he smiled weakly and bid him "_Buon Giorno_" looking at him with the same tired expression which Lovino had. Only with honey-amber eyes instead of hazel ones.

Their breakfast went in a very unusual silence, only with the occasional clatter of cups and plates here and there. This made Lovino very annoyed, even more than when his brother would endlessly talk about everything in the world this early in the morning, including about that potato bastard _that I don't fucking want to hear about Feliciano, would you shut up dammit?_

Not that he liked when his brother was all bright and noisy, throwing his happy smiles and laughs to everyone, even those Lovino was sure didn't deserve to be near his idiot of a twin. Really, he just… didn't like when it's quiet, that's all.

Speaking about 'those who-don't-deserve-to-throw-a-single-glance-at-my-brother'; both Feliciano and Lovino decided to cut any contacts with friends, colleagues or family that day. Just like they always did when this day came, no matter how much that potato-ass would protest, yell and even _who_ _the hell does he think he is?_ order to accompany the two. Or that Pedo-Tomato-phile would whine and cry for about a week. Before and after the event. It's their business, and no one was allowed to know, or even see them in that condition, except for one man. The one who would do it.

When they finished their calm and quite quick breakfast – really, Lovino didn't even have any desire to have his usual morning _pomodor_o – they headed to their garage. After a few minutes of fumbling with the keys and cursing from the darker haired boy, Feliciano finally decided to take the keys and convinced his twin that he was too nervous to drive, which could bring them to a very, very unpleasant and maybe even painful car accident. So they switched seats.

After about an hour of driving, they arrived at a quiet area near the edge of Rome. The neighborhood was small and peaceful, free of the city's noisiness, busyness and touristness. Just what they needed.

The building they went to had a small shop, which the owner decided to close especially for the sake of his two loyal clients. He would first receive a phone call a week before, so he could arrange everything he needed: prepare instruments, check on the client list and make sure that no one would come in that day, apologizing to them for not being able to serve them. Also, he would need to prepare some cappuccino or espresso, with some sweets for the pair. He knew that it would calm them and make them feel better after he finished with them.

The brothers stood in front of shop's doors, gathering themselves to enter. Feliciano was sure that his twin would never admit that he was even more nervous than Feli was scared, because what they had to deal with never went well with his ego and temper, and that he would rather sit the whole day eating tomatoes at home with Feliciano cooking some pasta for them both. Wasn't that even better than going to this place? These small glass doors, this empty room with empty chairs, and mirrors, _oh God_, these mirrors- His brother in its reflection and he himself could see his own scared face and eyes filled with tears, blurring everything around-

Feliciano felt a warm hand gently placed on his shoulder, interrupting his trail of not quite happy thoughts and his… Was he quivering again? He looked at Lovino, who gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. There was a small, very rare smile on his face, and Feliciano returned it with a much wider one, thanking whoever was watching them there in the skies that he had his sibling. He placed a soothing hand on his brothers back and the twins entered the small door.

The place was, as always, small, bright and empty. As the bell rang with them pushing the door, the owner of the place, Luigi, greeted them with a wide familiar smile; the one that he kept only for his favorite costumers. He asked about common things like their family, about their health, and talking about weather and other not so important stuff that would somehow loosen the atmosphere, at the same time moving around the place in an attempt to make everything in his workplace ideal for himself to work as comfortably as possible.

As Luigi prepared the first chair, the twins looked at each other with an unspoken question: _Who's first?_ Lovino, as the least cowardly of the two (and last time Feli was first anyways) gave a small nod to his sibling, and moved to the prepared, comfortable chair.

Luigi put his instruments in front of them. Shiny, professional, kept in the best condition that an owner could, making them after so many years look like new, and cut as easy as a warmed knife would cut butter in half. Lovino took a long breath, closed his eyes, and Luigi's hands started their own dance around his head. Each move was mechanic, like he did this everyday (which he did), every motion so smooth, confident and free of unnecessary movement.

And most important – not a single touch to his curl, until the time came for it itself. The barber knew what that curl was, and with years of mastering his cutting skills, his work was as neat as was possible in his profession. He was taught by the best masters of Italy – his father and grandfather, sharing their knowledge with him that was gathered over generations. The profession was passed from father to son, and if not that, then it was from master to student, until they were gathered in a single man's hands that was Luigi. And he would make sure that it would not stop only with him.

So, Lovino had a neat, stylish haircut, and there was only his curl left. "Well, senior, brace yourself," Said Luigi, and took the curl very gently with his index and middle fingers. Feliciano covered his mouth with both his hands, eyes nearly in tears. Lovino closed his eyes harder and hissed, holding his breath in. The barber took his sharpest scissors and moved them to the curl…

"**Chigi-gi~!**" A sound blew around this quiet area, making the birds fly in panic.

In about 30 minutes there was a similarly loud sound spread with "**Ve~!**" being the only difference.

A/N:

Didn't see this coming, did you? XD

So this is my first fanfiction in my intire life, so please don't be gentle. If you throw at me vegetables , I'll cook them and eat them :P

I was always wondering how those two get their haircut with their curles. I would never let anyone touch it if I had one... Or two. I'd hide it as far as possible~

I would like to thank Shatterdoll for dealing with my army of horrible mistakes - you are, darling, a true Hero!

And I would love to know what do you think about this shot (shall I write more, or just throw my typing machine to a fulcano), you just need to hit that tiny "review" botton ;)

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA OR ITS CHARACTERS.


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